


hard feelings / not-loveless

by Anonymous



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, M/M, More Hurt Than Comfort, SCB's An Asshole Here I'm So Sorry, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jeongin isn’t built for hate. It is just the way it is; just another truth amongst many.(or, no matter what happens, Jeongin can't bring himself to hate Changbin. Not even a little.)
Relationships: Seo Changbin/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13
Collections: Anonymous





	hard feelings / not-loveless

**Author's Note:**

> more things to take note of: toxic bf changbin, implied(??? i suppose) emotional manipulation, implied sexual content, jeongin is a sweetheart and an idiot. oh and the car accident isn't explicit, just said in passing but if it bothers you please don't read this x
> 
> written for an irl who asked me one day, "is there a toxic bf changbin and sweet bf jeongin fic yet???" so here it is :)

Jeongin isn’t built for hate. It is just the way it is; just another truth amongst many.

But sometimes the desire niggles at him: when someone leaves an unattended cart in the middle of the parking lot, when he sees a chipped paint on public property, when dishes pile up in his kitchen sink, when cracked pieces of ceramic and glass litter his living room, when their apartment suddenly turns to his. Now one, no longer two — at least, that’s what he feels like for quite some time now.

When Jeongin wakes up, the ceiling is still a large expanse of pure whiteness, and the space next to him is cold. It has been for some time but somehow today, today this pisses him off to no end. Hate is a strong word, he knows this. Which is exactly why he doesn’t hate this. He doesn’t. It comes close enough but he doesn’t. He doesn’t. So he gets up from his bed and sets out for his day.

+

Some time between Jeongin’s junior and senior year of college, he met Changbin. Seo Changbin was a 23 year old postgrad, who worked as a TA to one of Jeongin’s elective units. To say Jeongin was besotted wouldn’t come close to the truth; that Yang Jeongin had fallen head over heels for Seo Changbin as soon as they had met eyes.

And the rest as they say, is history. Two graduations later, Jeongin had bagged the hot TA from his Music Theory class, and along with it an underground producer as a boyfriend. Jeongin loved Changbin.

Now, 23 year old Yang Jeongin works at a kindergarten two streets away from his boyfriend’s production studio and a five-minute bus ride back to their apartment. It was easier this way for the both of them. Easier meaning this:

“Hyung,” Jeongin’s voice stutters as Changbin presses his body against his, as if willing their bodies to mold into each other with sheer force. “Hyung,” he calls again, looking away as Changbin lands a kiss against his jaw instead of his mouth. With hands still curled around the front of Changbin’s ratty hoodie, he pushes him away, just slightly.

And that was enough to piss Changbin off.

“Fine,” Changbin snaps and pushes himself off Jeongin. Jeongin misses the warmth and pouts, sliding his hand from Changbin’s elbow to his wrist. He shrugs it off. “Let go of me. Weren’t you the one who wanted me to get off you anyway?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jeongin whines. Of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to not be close to Changbin — all he wants was to have a proper conversation before they at least devoured each other right in Changbin’s dingy production studio. He knows it’s soundproof. But he just misses Changbin. “I miss you.”

Changbin goes to sit back on his swivel chair, ignoring Jeongin entirely as if he really was just another wall in the room. He fires the computer back up and the screen blinks alive, lines of greens and grey put on full display. He grabs his headphones and before Jeongin knows it, he’s snatching it away.

“Jeongin,” Changbin glowers, eyes dark. “You know more than anyone else to not fucking bother me when I’m making music.”

Which is true — he does know that more than anyone else. It was Jeongin at the end of every cold shoulder thrown to him when he stormed into his studio without announcement; it was Jeongin, too, that had to coax Changbin out of his funk to release it to him a little, at least to him, a sad excuse for being close to him. So Jeongin knows better. He does. But he also wants this more than anything.

“I know,” he simply replies and shakily places his headphones back onto the desk. He throws his other leg over Changbin’s lap, straddling him and places his hands over Changbin’s tense shoulders. “But I also heard from Jisung-hyung and Chan-hyung that someone pissed you off today.”

Changbin clicks his tongue in annoyance but his hands still come up to find Jeongin’s hips, holding him steady. Asks, “So you want to be next in line?”

“No,” he answers, leaning closer until the tips of their noses touch each other. Changbin’s so warm that it radiates through him, the warmth seeping right into Jeongin’s own chest. Then he rolls his hips upwards and Changbin squeezes his hips.

“Jeongin,” he calls out in warning.

“What? You don’t want this?” Jeongin leaves a trail of kisses down the side of Changbin’s face, all while keeping his hips annoyingly still. When Changbin doesn’t reply, he makes a show of getting up. Before he could even push himself off the ground, Changbin is pulling him back onto his lap and into a searing kiss, fingers threading through his hair. Changbin tugs on it hard, hard enough that Jeongin lets out an embarrassing groan at that. “I thought you — thought you didn’t want this, hyung.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Changbin spits, mouth against his throat.

“Then fuck it out of me,” Jeongin challenges and who was Changbin to back out of that?

When Jeongin and Changbin stumble out of his studio an hour later, smelling like disinfectant and Febreeze, Jeongin thought they would’ve talked then, have a conversation. Jeongin genuinely misses Changbin. A dinner together at one of the snack tents outside their apartment complex sounded almost like a dream. So when they walk up the stairs back to civilization, Jeongin tugs air back towards their apartment instead of his boyfriend.

Jeongin turns around, only to find Changbin’s back already turned, headed towards the other side.

“Huh,” he says, taking quick steps to catch up to Changbin. Tugging on his wrist, they both come to a stop. “You’re not coming back?”

“No,” is Changbin’s quick and curt reply, which meant that there was no use in talking him out of it. “I need a breather. You go on ahead.”

Jeongin deflates.

“But hyung I—”

“I’m sure Hyunmin or whoever’s down to accompany you or whatever tonight.”

Jeongin presses his lips into a thin line. Here, in the middle of the streets of Seoul, artificial lights beaming down at them, the thought niggles back at the back of his mind. He hates this. He hates that Changbin — his supposed boyfriend — doesn’t even care. He doesn’t. Not even a little.

“His name is Hyunjin,” he replies timidly. Changbin has fucked the fight out of him. Now it’s just bitter, dull, and frankly, a little painful. “He’s my best friend, hyung.”

Changbin raises his eyebrows and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Good! So I’ll be on my merry way then,” Changbin says. Tugging off Jeongin’s hold on his wrist, he turns around, leaving Jeongin in the middle of the street like a jilted lover at an altar.

+

Jeongin knows that most relationships have their ups and downs; the highs and lows. It was asinine to think that their relationship would go smooth-sailing when they were both so young, filled with so much passion that sometimes it goes misplaced. In Jeongin he gets a little lost in his head sometimes, where everything is blue with its soft-edges and gentle touches. Changbin is red and fiery, scratchy surfaces with sharp ends, rough to touch. They fit like that: Jeongin takes a bit of Changbin’s hot red fires and Changbin turns a little blue, just a little. But enough. To Jeongin, it was enough.

But more than the highs, Jeongin’s been getting the lows more often than not. He doesn’t remember the last time they’ve sat down and talked. His nights were spent in an empty bed until Changbin comes stumbling back in, wreaking alcohol. Mornings during the weekends meant rushed sex, Changbin fucking whatever his problems were into Jeongin and by the time he comes, mouth panting against Jeongin’s, it’s gone. Blue. Blue and soft.

And that was it. Changbin wakes up and goes on about his day, the one where Jeongin only plays the role of a side character in his life instead of a main character. It was like Jeongin was simply an afterthought, shoved right back at the dusty bottom of Changbin’s being.

It felt a little like being used. He’s never said this, of course, so when Hyunjin says:

“You’re being used, you know that right?”

Of course, his simple answer is: “No?”

Hyunjin blinks at him from across the table before sighing, pushing the piece of meat on his plate from left to right, right to left. Jeongin gnaws on his bottom lip, fingers pressing hard against his knee.

“Changbin-hyung — he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.”

He doesn’t know why, but the idea of his best friend thinking that his boyfriend is an A-grade asshole ticks the fuck out of him. Because Changbin’s not. He’s not an asshole. Hyunjin doesn’t understand.

“Okay,” Hyunjin begins, finally leaving the poor piece of meat alone on the right side of his plate. “Say he didn’t, alright, say he isn’t actually using you to just, I don’t know, channel his frustration and anger onto you. Say he didn’t do all that—”

“He doesn’t.”

“Then when was the last time you guys went on a date? Or actually have a proper conversation with each other about, I don’t know, your future? Have you told him you got a better job offer at the other side of Seoul?”

Jeongin’s silent was an enough answer for Hyunjin it seemed. The sizzling of burning meat around them is suddenly too loud for Jeongin and hunches his shoulder more inwards.

“Jeongin,” Hyunjin calls his name out softly, full of worry and pity and Jeongin hates it. Hyunjin doesn’t understand. Changbin and him need each other. That’s just how they work. Just another truth among the many. “Jeongin,” he says again, pushing his unfinished bowl of rice and plate away and grabbing onto Jeongin’s hand. “You have got to talk to Changbin-hyung, okay? I’m worried. You look like you’re falling apart day by day.”

Jeongin’s face is red hot. He wonders if Changbin took all his blues with him earlier today because now, he snatches his hand out of Hyunjin’s grip and frowns.

“What is there to talk to? We’ve always worked like this. It — It works out.”

“Your relationship is running on a broken engine.”

“What do you know about being in a relationship, hyung!” He snaps, glaring from across the table. For a short second, hurt flashes across Hyunjin’s eyes before it hardens. But Jeongin can’t stop. “We’re not perfect and never will be but it works. We work, okay? Can’t I just fucking rant to you without you nitpicking my relationship with him?”

Hyunjin doesn’t back down either.

“Your relationship is the reason why you had to rant to me in the first fucking place, Yang Jeongin,” Hyunjin grits out through his teeth. “Whatever. I love you, you know. I just want the best for you and I’m sorry you have to hear this from me but it isn’t Changbin-hyung.”

Hyunjin slaps a few pieces of cash down onto the table, rattling the utensils, before he storms out, coat and scarf clutched between his white knuckles.

+

The thing that Jeongin hates the most is that to a degree, what Hyunjin said was true. When _was_ the last time they went on a date? Had a conversation that ended up with laughter instead of clothes being strewn across the floor? Had they talked about what their next step in their relationship was? Jeongin can’t recall even one because as far as he knows, they’ve never had any of this conversation.

So he tries. Because he didn’t want to run on a broken engine because inevitably, it’ll crash and burn. Red hot fire. So he tries.

On Saturday when Changbin trails kisses down his face to his neck, his chest then lower and lower, something inside of him clicks and he tugs Changbin off him eyes wide.

“Fucking hell,” Changbin curses, annoyed, “What is it now?”

 _Now?_ What the hell has he even done to piss Changbin off at eleven in the morning? He shakes his head and marches on, determined.

“Hyung,” he says, swallowing, “we have to talk.”

“Well, can it wait?”

“No, because we both know that won’t happen.”

Changbin frowns, brows furrowed. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Hyung,” he says slowly, “lately, I’ve been thinking that we...I think what we’re doing isn’t — it isn’t healthy for our relationship? I just want to talk to you again.”

“We’re talking right now.”

“No, I mean—” Jeongin squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath “—I mean conversations that don’t lead up to _sex_. Did you know I got a job offer with a better pay at the other side of the river? Around Mapo-gu.”

Changbin pauses and slumps next to Jeongin.

“You’ll say no, right?”

What.

“What?” Jeongin asks, incredulous. “You’re my boyfriend. Aren’t you supposed to support the next step in my career?”

“Being another teacher in a different kindergarten isn’t really the next step in your career, Innie.”

Jeongin’s jaw falls.

“ _Hyung_.” Tears prick behind his eyelids. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You don’t mean that—”

“And it’s far! Far from our apartment and far from _me_. You’d still say yes? Don’t be stupid.”

Jeongin frankly has had enough of this. First, it was the fact that he was being used by his own boyfriend, simply as a fucking fleshlight to fuck his frustration out. Second as the fact that he didn’t think of earning more money, so they’ll get a better fucking apartment, move out, get married, adopt fucking babies but clearly Changbin doesn’t give a shit about all that. Changbin doesn’t care. Not even a little, not even in the slightest.

So he gets up, ignoring Changbin’s calls of his name and shrugs on a jacket and walks straight out of their apartment. Far, far away from their apartment.

+

Jeongin ends up crying at a PC bang, head hanging over the keyboard, letting the broken light up keyboard soak up his tears. It was awful to learn all his doubts over the months being proven true in just one fine morning. It was a long time coming. At least his broken sobs were being cut off by teenage boys screaming and the sound of the battlefield through the screens. He wondered what would happen if he let Changbin have his way with him this morning, wondering if he'd ended up being ignored like any other day.

At the PC bang he writes an e-mail reply to the job offer, sending in his letters of recommendations along with his resume and sends it all in a span of five minutes. He’ll get this job no matter what.

But at the end of the day, Jeongin is still completely in love with Changbin — the same way he felt when they first met eyes many years ago in a drafty lecture hall.

It doesn’t take long but eventually Jeongin winds back up to their apartment, now empty. As it usually would be on a Saturday evening because Changbin works around the clock, no matter the day.

He stays in for the rest of the evening, goes to sleep and wakes up to yet another empty bed. Changbin does whatever the fuck he wants and Jeongin is tired. He’s tired. Blue is bleeding out of him. Tired.

Reaching across the bed, Jeongin grabs his phone and goes through his contact list. His fingers hover over _Hyuni hyung_ and he hesitates. But he should. So he does.

Hyunjin picks up after three rings.

“Jeongin?”

“You were right, hyung,” Jeongin cries, pressing his fist against his eyes to stop them from spilling over. “We’re not perfect but we’re — we’re broken. I want to fix it but I don’t — I don’t know how? And you were right. We’re working on a broken engine. This…This’ll crash and burn soon.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything for a good few seconds before he hears a shaky breath through the receiver.

“So stop,” Hyunjin says, like it was simple as abc. “Either stop or run head on into the crash together.”

“I love him,” Jeongin sobs. He sounds so so broken even to himself. “I love him so much but I can’t do this anymore, hyung.”

“But do you love me?”

Jeongin, as if startled from a dream, frowns.

“What? Of course, I do.”

“Do you love me more than Changbin-hyung?”

“Hyunjin-hyung,” he calls out weakly, “you know it’s different.”

“Jeongin, I’ve watched you haul your ass in and out of this relationship that’s bringing absolutely nothing good to your life for the past few years now, all while being completely in love with you! And you still hail that asshole as the best you’ll ever get?”

It’s like having someone tip over an ice cold bucket of water over his head. His tears haven't even dried yet and now his eyelids are stinging again.

Hyunjin continues, “Listen, I’ll be coming over. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same. It’s fine. I can live with it. What I don’t want is for you to feel like absolute shit because Changbin-hyung treats you like one, okay? Do you want ice cream or what?”

“I—” His head is spinning “—ice cream’s fine.”

“Okay.”

And the line goes flat. Jeongin cries.

+

Learning that Hyunjin is in love with Jeongin made so much sense; how adamant he was about their relationship being awful, how he was never the one to shy away from showing his distaste for Changbin’s attitude towards him. Maybe he was biased in his observation — but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t true. Jeongin thinks he’ll forever be in love with Changbin but not like this. Not when they both need so much healing and Changbin, well, needs to remember that his boyfriend was a person at the end of the day.

Hyunjin didn’t treat Jeongin any different. When Jeongin opens the door to Hyunjin with an armful of ice cream enough to last them at least a month, all he does is coo like he usually does and pull him into a bone-crushing hug. Jeongin can’t help the sob that spills out of his mouth. He’s never been touched like this in ages, especially from the one person he craves it from the most. So he sags his body against Hyunjin’s and cries.

“I’m so sorry,” Hyunjin says against his hair. “Changbin-hyung’s a dick.”

Jeongin lets out a wet laugh. “A little,” he manages to say. “But I still love him.”

“Ah, and I thought you were perfect. Here you go telling me your one and only flaw in life.”

Jeongin pushes himself off Hyunjin and offers him a sorry smile.

“Being in love?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “Yeah, whatever you call what you have for Changbin-hyung.”

Hyunjin doesn’t bring up his quick confession to Jeongin when he shoves Jeongin towards the couch, demanding him to turn the TV on so they can have a Netflix movie marathon. He doesn’t bring it up when they’re huddled together on the couch as the movie loads. Jeongin pretends Hyunjin didn’t say anything, too. He’s already too fragile as it is but—

But he couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder how it’d work if it was Hyunjin and Jeongin, wonder if Hyunjin would hold him close like this, would buy him ice cream when he’s sad. Would care, would love him. Jeongin couldn’t help but wonder; especially like this: legs entangled with one another, rom-com up on the screen, and the fluorescent glow from the TV bouncing off the apples of Hyunjin’s cheeks. Jeongin looks away, fingers tightening around the handle of his spoon, digging it further into the ice cream. He wonders. Would he feel better? Would he finally know what it’s like to be taken care of?

It’s not like he’ll ever know when his heart’s squashed between the ground and Changbin’s feet. But he couldn’t help but wonder.

“What are you guys doing?”

Jeongin doesn’t hear the sound of the keys being punched in, doesn’t hear the loud creak of the front door open, doesn’t feel Changbin come in. But Changbin’s there when he turns around, standing still right at the foyer.

“Watching a movie,” Jeongin answers, before turning back to the front. “You can join if you want.”

“Get the fuck off my boyfriend, Hyunjin.”

Next to him, Hyunjin’s entire body tenses in his hold. It’s not fair. It’s not fair when Hyunjin has come all across town to accompany him to make him feel better, pulling him into a warm hug that he desperately needs, only to be talked to so rudely by Changbin. And all because they were fucking cuddling?

He pauses the movie.

“Don’t talk to Hyunjin-hyung like that,” he snaps, turning around to level Changbin with a glare. When he glances at Hyunjin, he’s already loosening his hold on Jeongin, feet flat on the floor, ready to take his leave. This is his own battle and Hyunjin knows that, too. He stands.

Changbin scoffs. “And why the fuck not?”

“Because he’s my best friend,” Jeongin retorts, his face hot from anger. It’s not fair. It’s not fair when Hyunjin is in love with him, would probably treat him better than Changbin but here he is still, longing for a hug from Changbin. He doesn’t want Hyunjin no matter what — he wants Changbin.

But not like this.

“And I’m your _boyfriend_ ,” Changbin presses on, unrelenting. Hyunjin’s making his way out quietly from underneath Changbin’s strong gaze, looking down as he pushes the door open. He finally leaves, the door closing with a resounding click.

Jeongin turns back to look at Changbin.

“Are you?”

Jeongin stands up from the couch, gathering the ice cream tubs, the blankets, rearranging the pillows, all to ignore the shock in Changbin’s face.

“Where the fuck is this coming from?”

Changbin’s voice is piercing and cold but Jeongin is stronger than that. He can be red, too.

“Well,” Jeongin starts, finally locking eyes with Changbin’s. “Last time I checked being a boyfriend meant caring for me, understanding me, supporting me, and being fucking in love with me. Not being treated like a human fleshlight to fuck all your frustrations out!”

Changbin looks like he’s been cut. He snaps, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Jeongin’s hand is shaking. He’s so so angry and even more pissed at the fact that while all this anger is boiling in him, a part of him wishes Changbin could change for the better. Because he’s still the one for Jeongin. But not like this. He continues, “I do mean that. Sooner or later you’ll realise that in a relationship you have to try to keep it fucking afloat. You’re not doing jackshit, hyung. I don’t even know if you love me anymore.”

Changbin’s hands are curled into fists at his sides. “I do love—”

“Did you know? Did you know that Hyunjin was in love with me? All while I was being treated like absolute shit from _you_?” Jeongin scoffs. He’s so pathetic. “I could drop you for him any fucking time and he’ll treat me like an absolute king. He cares for me. But what’s worse is that I don’t fucking love him like I love you, hyung.”

There’s a moment of hesitation in the way Changbin looks like he wants to speak. Finally, he says, “Jeongin, I do love you.”

“Then why do you hurt me!” He cries, screaming as he falls to the floor. He feels like a lid rattling about with overflowing anger. He can’t believe that he’s this goddamn pathetic. When Changbin takes a step closer, Jeongin puts a shaky hand up. “Stop — don’t.” He wipes his tears away hurriedly with the back of his hand and sniffles. “You hurt me, hyung. You call that love?”

“I—” For a moment there, Changbin looks sad but then immediately he frowns, exhaling sharply, “Where the fuck is this coming from? Nothing prompted this—”

“Everything prompted this!” Jeongin screams. Everything — from the dishes stacking up in the sink, texts going unanswered, dinners going cold, the quick fucks at the studio, weekends spent doing nothing couple-y in the slightest, Changbin shrugging everything he says off, Changbin not fucking supporting his career choice. Everything. He can’t breathe anymore, being in the same vicinity as Changbin. “I have to leave.”

Changbin comes closer to him but Jeongin’s quicker as he stands up to grab his coat by the couch.

“Jeongin, can we not fucking do this—”

“Fuck you!” Jeongin barks, shrugging the coat on. Changbin stays frozen where he stands and just watches as Jeongin opens their front door and leaves.

+

The last thing Jeongin remembers is stomping angrily out of the apartment and crossing the street. The last thing he remembers is the pedestrian light turning red right as he steps on the street and then he’s out, metal against flesh, blood in his mouth, and the roaring sirens of the ambulance invading his mind before he fades into white.

+

Jeongin remembers vaguely of the last time he was warded in a hospital. When he was 13, he fell off the monkey bars at school that were already too small and rusty to begin with, so when the bar broke and he crash-landed on burning asphalt, he had cried. Throughout the journey to the hospital his father had scolded him while his mother held his broken arm in her tender hands, soothing his pain. His parents cared despite it all — which was proven right when years later he realised they both had spent a week off work with unpaid leave to attend to him. They cared.

It had hurt then but what Jeongin feels now, lying in a stiff bed while staring blankly at the Seoul skyline through the window, hurts even more. Because it wasn’t only his leg or his arm but it was also his heart. His heart — that was what’s hurting him most.

The door to his room creaks open and he snaps his head to look, full of hope, only to meet a doctor and a nurse. He deflates easily.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” The doctor asks, all full of smiles and sunshine. She heads over to him with a clipboard as Jeongin answers, asking if anything was okay. The left side of his body felt incredibly numb. They do their inspections, do whatever that needs to be done. Jeongin just sits there and stares blankly at the wall, heart heavy.

“You’re lucky the crash wasn’t that bad. Just some fractured ribs and your broken left leg. No major blood loss. You’re probably just numb from all the stitches,” she tells him, swinging her stethoscope around her neck and smiles. “We have the driver’s information if you want — he left it last night.”

He pauses. “I’m not going to press charges.” It was his fault after all.

“Hmm,” she replies, uninterested, “Well, for that leg you’ll need physical therapy after but! That’s something to worry about after. Just rest for now, you’ll be let out in a few days I’m sure.”

The doctor leaves after but the nurse hangs about, rattling a bottle of meds out into a smaller cup.

“Hey,” he calls out. She looks up, a pressed grin on her pink face. “I...I’m sorry but do you know where my belongings are? Or just...if anyone got in touch with my family?”

The nurse perks up at that. “Oh!” She says and points towards the side table, where he didn’t even realise was even there in the first place. “Your belongings are in there — your phone, wallet, and stuff. Not your clothes though, sorry.” Jeongin nods, hand reaching over to open the drawer when — “Oh and we contacted your family. They’re on their way. From Busan, right? And you also had a visitor last night but you were still out, so we sent him off.”

“Oh.” is all he could muster. It’s pathetic of him to hope. “Do you know who…?”

The nurse screws the lid of the medicine bottle close and shoots him a pitiful look.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head.

When the nurse leaves, Jeongin’s left to his own devices again. His phone is dead to the world, screen a thousand cracks with blood lodged between it all. He’s too tired to call for anyone to borrow a charger, so he lets the phone fall on his lap and slumps backwards into the reclined bed and closes his eyes.

The birds chirp from the outside. Then—

The door opens with a soft click.

“Hey.” Changbin’s voice comes soft and closer as if Jeongin was still dreaming. Afraid that it was, he cracks his eyes open and sees Changbin still standing by the door, a bouquet of flowers in his arms. It covered almost half of his body. His eyes start to sting.

“What? No balloons?” It was meant to come off as a joke but the way his voice cracks halfway through it seemed otherwise. He wills himself not to cry still, gripping hard on the scratchy hospital sheets. Changbin’s still by the door, hesitant what to do next. So Jeongin asks, “Are you going to stand there the entire time?”

Red creeps up Changbin’s cheeks and he shakes his head, taking a few steps closer until he’s right by Jeongin, setting the flowers on top of the side table. It was as if Changbin was holding onto the flowers as a vice to steel all his feelings and emotions into it because as soon as he lets go, he starts to cry.

“Changbin—”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, pressing his hands against his eyelids. He takes a shaky inhale and Jeongin reaches for his wrist. He stares. “How could you even...how could you even touch me after all that?”

Jeongin offers him a small smile, a little sad. “Because I love you,” he replies simply.

“You shouldn’t.”

“And why not?”

Changbin’s breath falters for a second, raking through his brain for a reply. He has to face the truth.

“Love isn’t supposed to look like that,” he whispers, “I hurt you. You shouldn’t love me.”

And it’s true. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t love him like how much he still does. He should’ve gotten mad as soon as Changbin stepped into the room but all he felt was just — he was glad. Glad that it was Changbin. He just isn’t built for hate.

“It’s true,” he says, squeezing his fingers around Changbin’s wrist, “but I love you. Especially you.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jeongin! You — you got into a fucking accident when you left me and when I got the call I just — I panicked. I should’ve chased after you. I thought I was going to lose you, not just...not just as a boyfriend but to the world and I...I couldn’t even come to see you last night,” his voice breaks halfway through and he finally slides his fingers down to lace them together with Jeongin’s. “I’m here to apologise. For everything. I thought...I thought we were inevitable, so I didn’t try. I just...I just thought us loving each other was enough. I’m so sorry.” Then he lets go. Jeongin chases the warmth. “I don’t deserve this, Jeongin. I hurt you.”

“You did.” Jeongin nods. “And you don’t deserve this. Not even me. But I love you. Didn’t you hear that the first time I said it? I love you, hyung. All I want back is for you to do the same, to care for me, too.”

Changbin’s eyes are glassy when their eyes meet and Jeongin finds himself wanting to cry again, so he does.

“And I’ll show you that you do — that you do deserve me. Just promise that you’ll show me, too. That I deserve love. Deserve to be cared about.”

Changbin stares at him long and hard before he turns around to pull a chair. He sits by Jeongin’s side and their hands meet again, fingers interlocked.

“Wow, I think that’s the longest conversation we’ve had in a while,” Jeongin teases, even when his eyes sting with unshed tears. Changbin offers him a ghost of a smile and squeezes his hand. “This is nice. Don’t let go.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The birds continue to chirp outside, the clock in his room ticks to the next second, and Changbin’s squeezing his hand like his life depended on it. “Hyung, I said don’t let go, not cut off my blood circulation.”

“Oh,” immediately he loosens his grip, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I,” Changbin starts, clearing his throat. His eyes are red-rimmed with dark eyebags underneath. He can’t imagine trying to sleep after thinking his boyfriend was going to die. Jeongin hums, encouraging him to speak. “I know I don’t deserve this. And I’m sorry it took an accident for me to realise—” Changbin finches at that “—but I...I want to try again. I know it’s selfish but I do. I want this. I really do...I’ll grovel at your feet if you need me to.” His voice cracks again. “But please don’t hate me. Don’t leave me. I’ve been selfish throughout this relationship, I know, and if you give me a chance this will be the last selfish thing I do.”

Jeongin easily laughs at that, as if he didn’t already decide from the very beginning that he wanted to try this again with Changbin the moment he apologised. He’s pathetic, he already knows this but here’s Changbin, teary-eyed, with a bouquet of Jeongin’s favourite flowers. He wants to try again.

“On one condition,” Jeongin demands, chin held up high. Changbin straightens in his seat and nods.

“Anything.”

“Well,” he sing-songs, “can I please get a kiss from my boyfriend? I don’t know. I just miss him an awful lot, especially his kisses. It’d be nice to get a kiss from him.”

Jeongin hears Changbin’s open laugh for the first time in a while and he beams. He beams as Changbin gets up off his seat and leans closer, closing the gap between them by pressing his mouth against Jeongin’s. Except he can’t stop smiling.

“All I’m getting is your teeth,” Changbin jokes, “hold still!”

“Okay,” and Changbin kisses him again, properly this time, with a hand on his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone. He misses this.

“God, lovebirds.”

Jeongin whimpers when Changbin pulls away, a little too quickly only to be met with Hyunjin and the rest of his family behind him. Jeongin glances at Changbin, cheeks firetruck red. Jeongin laughs.

+

“I can’t say I am entirely supportive of your relationship,” Hyunjin sighs into his palm, “but you’ve been so fucking gross and bright these past few months and I am absolutely disgusted. Revolted. This is so awful to watch. Sometimes I wish Changbin-hyung could turn into an asshole again for a bit. As a treat.”

Jeongin fake gasps and throws a crumpled napkin from across the table right in his face. They’re at a cafe near Hyunjin’s workplace having lunch, waiting for Changbin to finish up in the studio to accompany him to the hospital. Jeongin can’t even be entirely mad at Hyunjin as he laughs, the crumpled napkin falling over to the floor.

“What! It’s true!”

“Well, he’s not dating you, is he? Mind your business, Hwang,” Jeongin grumbles, sticking a tongue out at him.

“Yeah but he’s dating my best friend. Can’t I be worried a little?” Hyunjin replies, smiling, “But you seem happy, so who am I to say anything—” he pauses, leans down to pick up the napkin to deposit it on his empty plate “—you’re happy, right?”

Jeongin blinks. Is he happy? This morning he woke up to a mouthful of hair and laughed, Changbin grumbling at him to be quiet, five more minutes. This morning Changbin pressed kisses against his left shoulder, over the stitches on his ribs, his cheeks, and finally his mouth before he got out of bed to get breakfast ready. Breakfast. Changbin makes him breakfast now. Even if there are still pieces of eggshells in his omelette, Changbin still tries. After breakfast was all done and dandy, Jeongin pulled Changbin close into a bone-melting kiss, a contented sigh leaving his body. And it was only eight in the morning.

“Yes,” he says finally, the truth leaving his lips faster than he could even catch it. He thinks of Changbin pressing a kiss against his forehead before he leaves for work. He thinks of Changbin answering to his e-mails from kindergartens all across Seoul in behalf of Jeongin, for a better work offer, for a better pay, especially the one that could accommodate to Jeongin and his needs, no matter how far. He thinks of Changbin accompanying him to every physical therapy appointment he has. He thinks of Changbin squeezing his hand a little too hard every time they cross the street, always pausing to take a quick look at the pedestrian light, worried. Jeongin had reluctantly agreed on that — to never cross the road without at least holding someone’s hand, be it him or a complete stranger. It was okay; this was better. Changbin cares and Jeongin lets him. So he is. He’s happy.

“I’m happy.”

“Okay, good,” Hyunjin replies, nodding, “because while you were in your head thinking about gross stuff probably, your lover boy has been standing outside the cafe for the past five minutes, just staring ahead. I think you should go now.”

“Oh shit,” Jeongin curses, glancing outside to see Changbin rocking back and forth on his feet, hands tucked into his jean jacket’s pockets. This was a funny thing that Changbin insisted — that Changbin were to wait no matter how long it’ll take for Jeongin. He deserved at least that, so Jeongin lets him. He’s always there, though. Except now apparently. “Well, I’ll go now. Thanks for the lunch, hyung!”

Jeongin’s not sure if he hears Hyunjin grumble out a _brat_ , but he ignores it to walk through the cafe doors and into his boyfriend’s arms.

Changbin immediately lights up as Jeongin comes into his view.

“Hey,” he says, taking his hand out of his pockets and offering it to Jeongin. He grabs it immediately. “Excited for your last appointment?”

“Yeap,” Jeongin replies, letting Changbin tug their interlocked hand to shove it into his pocket. This is nice. He leans in for a quick kiss, Changbin all smiles throughout. He pulls back and they start walking. “How’s work?”

“Hmm, it’s alright,” he replies, laughing into the air, “though this morning Jisung spilled his coffee all over his white shirt. Made my day.”

“What? My morning kisses didn’t make your day?”

“Well…” Changbin drags on, a cheeky smile plastered across his face. “Maybe if you brushed your teeth first.”

“You’re awful,” Jeongin hisses but his cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. From there they walk the long stretch along the road, their steps faltering as they reach a crosswalk.

Jeongin’s not as traumatised by crosswalks as Changbin is. Of course, he gets flashes of fear when he remembers the night, he’s more worried about it at night. But in bright daylight he fares better, knowing there were more people to pull him in if he were to crash again. But Changbin doesn’t. He constantly worries. As they stop right in front of the crosswalk, Changbin’s grip on his hand tightens.

“Hyung,” he calls out, smiling. There are lines on Changbin’s head and it’ll be there forever if he keeps on glaring at the road as if it was the one that hurt Jeongin. The pedestrian light turns green and they both wait for all the cars to stop before they start walking again.

“Hmm?”

The walk across the street is short, it wasn’t the main street after all. Jeongin squeezes his hand as a reply.

“I love you,” Jeongin says, as they reach the end of the crosswalk and step onto the sidewalk.

“Oh.” Changbin turns to look at him and pauses in his step. Jeongin looks back in surprise, his hand still tucked inside Changbin’s jacket making him unable to move forward. Changbin reaches out, hand against his cheek as he pulls him into a kiss, short but sweet. “Me too,” he replies, grinning wide when he pulls away, “I love you, too.”

With his hand in Changbin’s, the both of them walking towards Jeongin’s last appointment at the hospital, he knows they’ll be okay. He’s sure they will. They’ll work it out. It is just the way it is; just another truth amongst many.

**Author's Note:**

> me: jeongin, love can't pay the bills  
> jeongin, shaking me by the shoulders: NOT WHEN IT'S CHANGBIN!!!!!!!!11


End file.
